


A Million Years Ago

by MadameBaggio



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reconciliation, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameBaggio/pseuds/MadameBaggio
Summary: Éomer had once stood on this exact spot, watching as his cousin swore fealty to Lord Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North.He was younger then, and Sansa Stark was merely a girl.That felt like a million years ago.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Sansa Stark
Comments: 58
Kudos: 67





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> More crack straight from [tumblr](https://madamebaggio.tumblr.com/)  
> Go visit me there!

“Ned’s daughter has a crush on you.” Théodred told his younger cousin.

Éomer scoffed. “Jealous?”

“She will be a beauty once she grows up.” His cousin pointed out.

“Aye, she’ll also be even more insipid and vain than she is now.”

Théodred gave him a look. “That’s not a nice thing to say about the daughter of your host.”

Éomer felt berated by his cousin. “You’re right.”

Théodred put a hand on his cousins shoulder. “Lady Sansa is still very young. I know there’s what it looks like a big gap between you two, but it won’t look that much of a difference in the future.”

Éomer gave his cousin a look. “What are you suggesting?”

“For now? Absolutely nothing.”


	2. 2

Éomer might’ve been young, but he knew what his cousin was thinking about when he asked about Lady Sansa.

It would be an interesting match, from a political point of view. Théodred was too old for her, even though he was the heir of the Riddermark. They all knew Ned wouldn’t marry his daughter to a man 20 years older than her, and even Théodred didn’t want a child bride, no matter how fond he was of her. And fond of Sansa he was. He’d listen to her songs, tell her tales and bring her flowers; but it was the same affection an uncle might show a favored niece. 

However Éomer was only his cousin, the most he could aspire to was to be made a marshall, and it was what he was working towards. It was noble choice, but hardly enough to make him a suitable match for a lady like Sansa.

Something that lady Catelyn made quite clear when Théodred made a joke about Sansa’s crush.

“I think Sansa is quite fond of Éomer.” He joked with Ned.

“It’s just a childish daydream.” Cat spoke before her husband could. “A silly infatuation. She’ll grow out of it.”

Éomer understood quite well what the lady truly meant,

_**XXX** _

Sansa hardly ever spoke directly to Éomer. He was so tall and brave, and she felt like she never knew exactly what to say to him.

He never praised her like everybody else, at least not now.

Before, when she was much younger, Éomer had been kind and attentive to her. He’d join their games, even though he was older than the children. He’d play her knight and rescue her.

Sansa had kept a special place in her heart for him for a long time.

Now she was getting older and she hoped he’d notice her, perhaps court her, but he never did. The older she got, the more distant he became.

However, she was young and naive, so Sansa still held on to hope. Maybe in time, Éomer would like her again.


	3. 3

Sansa might be young and painfully naive, but even she knew when to stop dreaming: Éomer didn’t like her, and he never would. He probably thought she was a silly little girl that had nothing to say to a warrior like him.

Maybe he’d like a girl like Arya one day.

It was fine; if he didn’t like her she wouldn’t like him.

The prince -the King’s heir - was there and he seemed to like her. She could be a Queen one day.

All the bannermen had come to see the King and pledge fealty to him. Théodred and Théoden weren’t there, they’d sent Éomer, but he didn’t even look at her.

He took a knee for the King, but later Sansa heard him saying to Robb that his real loyalty was to Ned.

“You only say that because you fancy Sansa like she fancies you.” Theon teased, making Robb and Jon glare at him.

Éomer snorted. “I don’t fancy anyone, much less a child.”

When Sansa left with her father to go to King’s Landing, Éomer was the only one she didn’t say goodbye to.

She’d learn to love the prince in time.

***

It was better this way. one day she’d grow out of a silly fancy for a simple Marshall.

It did leave a bad taste in his mouth to see her being promised to someone like that fucking prince, but it wasn’t Éomer’s place to say anything.

It was time to go home.


	4. 4

Things in the North and the Mark became dark.

Éomer was convinced his uncle’s advisor was working for some outside force, poisoning Théoden’s mind.

When Éomer found out Gríma had been working for the Lannisters and that he was actually poisoning his uncle, it was almost too late.

By then Ned Stark had long been executed, the boys were dead, Aya disappeared and Sansa was… He couldn’t think of Sansa; locked inside the Red Keep with the people that killed her father.

Robb Stark had raised his bannermen and The Mark didn’t answer the call.

They’d abandoned their King.

Not long after that Théodred died in an ambush, Éomer was locked up in a dark cell, Robb was betrayed, the Boltons took over the North and Gríma made Théoden follow like a ghost.

Éowyn broke him out of his prison, he ran, he had to hide and fight like an outlaw…

Years looked like decades and he didn’t know what else was happening or what he was fighting for.

He needed to save his uncle and his sister, and then he’d figure out what else he needed to do. It was as if the space in his head was consumed by only that, and he couldn’t worry about the rest of Westeros. Honestly… He didn’t even remember it existed most of the time.

The Mark was a large part of the North and he was constantly trying to evade assassins sent by Gríma.

Things only took a turn once he heard Stannis Baratheon was moving against the Boltons. As Gríma sent men and supplies to help the fake warden of the North, the keep was left unprotected.

He’d still had men loyal to him and his uncle, and this was how Éomer planned to take the Mark back.

It was grim night: his uncle -in a single and short moment of clarity -raised his sword again, and protected Éowyn. His sister was hurt, but she’d survive, and Gríma ran to hide with the Boltons, because he was a coward.

So much pain and destruction, but the Mark was out of Lannisters’ hands. His uncle died, but he’d died a free man -which was hardly any consolation -and Éowyn was safe now.

“Éomer.” She called softly from her bed.

“Peace, sister. Your wound got infected, you need rest.”

“Sansa…” She spoke.

“What about her?” Éomer asked, not sure what his sister had to say about her.

And just when Éomer thought that nothing else could hurt him in this world, Éowyn told him the only thing he’d never thought he’d hear. “She’s married to Ramsay Bolton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’m giving preference to the universe of Game of Thrones, I had to adapt a lot Éomer’s and Rohan’s story. I’ve tried to keep as many elements as possible, but in the end I had to choose what fit better inside GoT.
> 
> Anyway… I hope you liked it.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This post is a mix of these two previous posts that are on my tumblr. I’ve decided to put together the snippets I already have to construct the storyline, so I might change a few pieces, or just go with the whole thing. For this time I’ve decided to glue them together to make it a bit longer and still offer something extra.
> 
> And, remember, you can also find all of it on my tumblr.

Éowyn’s words haunted Éomer. 

Sansa had married Ramsay?

How was that possible?

He was a monster. He wouldn’t treat her well just because she was a Stark. That boy was sick, a cruel creature protected by his father’s name.

Éomer didn’t know what to do, or how to react. He felt as if his whole world had narrowed down to that piece of information.

He decided to go to Winterfell. He’d use the excuse that he was there to see the Warden of the North and try and find Sansa. He needed to know if she was alright.

He was preparing his men to go, when one of his couriers came in with a message: Sansa Stark was with Jon Snow, and they were looking for bannermen that were still loyal to the Starks. They were going to take Winterfell back.

Éomer sent the boy right back to Sansa and Jon, telling them he’d meet them both halfway.

***

He’d seen her that one last time, just before she left for King’s Landing with her father. He knew they planned to marry her to the whinny prince. It was an absurd notion, the boy would never be worthy of her.

And Éomer didn’t mean to say he was -he didn’t think he was.

She crossed his mind many times over the years. She was a beautiful girl with a pure heart, and he could only imagine what she’d gone through after her father’s death.

And now… She was here. In front of him. Asking him to fight for the North, to fight for her.

Was it madness that he would give everything - even his life - for her?

***

“I didn’t think I would see you again.” Her tone wasn’t accusing, but Éomer felt attacked anyway.

“I made a vow to your father, Lady Stark.” He chose to say instead of a thousand other things. “I promised him I would be back.”

“You sure took your time.” She pointed out.

Éomer pressed his lips together. “But I am here. It’s more than what can be said about others.”

She arched a brow in his direction, but didn’t disagree. “It is a great honor talking to you again, Lord Éomer.”

“The honor is mine, My Lady.” He bowed to her. “It has been too long since a Stark has been at Winterfell. We hope to change that.”

“It has.” She agreed pleasantly enough. “Even more since we knew who we could trust.”

“Lucky you we’re back.” He threw at her.

Jon Snow -Éomer couldn’t believe he was there too -frowned. “Careful how you talk to Lady Stark.”

Lady Sansa didn’t seem exactly bothered. She’d changed a lot through the years, that was quite clear. Gone was the softness and the innocence of her youth. She’d turned as pretty as everyone thought she’d turn. Even prettier.

She’d been in love with him a long time ago. A silly infatuation, a childish daydream, Lady Catelyn had called it once. Back then, when she looked at him -before the weak princeling, before the death of her parents - her eyes sparkled.

Now they were cold.

But he’d liked the spark of fire inside the quiet girl. He’d liked her sweet smiles.

Éomer refused to believe they were gone.

“We will fight for House Stark, Lady Sansa.” He vowed.

“You promised us this once, and you didn’t keep your promise.” She indicated.

“We didn’t have a choice.” He told her firmly.

“I heard about your uncle and cousin.” She paused for a second. “I’m deeply sorry for what happened to them.”

“My uncle was fond of your parents. My cousin was fonder of you.” He indicated, just so he wouldn’t have to talk about the tragedies in the past. Better leave them behind.

Her mouth curled up a bit. “I do remember that. However, at the time, my heart wasn’t set on him.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Éomer agreed.

She gave him a flat look. “But I was just a child then. Those silly ideas are gone now.”

Éomer felt strangely challenged just then. “If you say so, My Lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your feelings!


	6. 6

Even with Éomer’s riders, they were still in a smaller number.

The Boltons had number on their sides and the support of the King. Éomer knew they had just defeated Stannis Baratheon, so Ramsay probably felt very confident on himself.

He could see the tension between Sansa and Jon, the fear in both their hearts, but they were together in this. This mich was clear.

“Éomer, would you walk with me?” Jon asked after they had another council.

“Aye.”

Jon waited until they were a bit farther from the tents. “I have something I need to ask you.”

“What is wrong?”

“I’ll fight and I’ll do my best to protect Sansa, but you’ve seen our army.”

Éomer frowned. “You don’t think we can win?”

Jon sighed. “I want to believe that we can, but… I can let her go back to him. If anything happens, if the battle seems lost, I need you to promise me something.”

Éomer waited in silence for Jon to ask him.

“I need you to get her and run.” Jon told him firmly. “I don’t care where you take her, but I need you to get her away from him. I know it’s unfair to ask you this, after all that happened…”

“Jon.” Éomer cut him. “I promise you, whatever happens, Sansa will be safe.”

Jon sighed in relief. “You’re the only one I truly trust with her.”

Éomer put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I’ll see it done. But it won’t be necessary; we’ll end that little fuck.”

Jon chuckled. “I hope we do.”

“Is it true that he has your brother?”

“We think so.”

“We’ll see it done, Jon.” Éomer assured him once again. “We’ll get Winterfell back.”

***

“Did Jon ask you to carry me away to Essos perhaps?”

Éomer turned to Sansa. “My Lady?”

“Jon isn’t as secretive as he likes to believe.” Sansa told him simply, as she came closer to him.

“Your brother is a great man.” He just answered instead.

“He is.” She agreed easily. “He reminds me of my father.”

“He does.” Éomer agreed. “There’s a lot of Ned on him. Like there’s a lot of Catelyn on you.”

Sansa hummed. “So I’ve heard.” She looked directly at him. “What did he ask you?”

“To keep Ramsay away from you.”

Sansa pressed her lips together.

“What did he do to you?” Éomer asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

The statement only served to confirm Éomer’s worst fears. Ramsay had hurt Sansa badly and nobody had stopped it; nobody had protected her.

“I failed your family.” The told her eventually. “I couldn’t join your brother, I couldn’t help your younger brothers. I couldn’t even help you.”

“You’re helping us now. It’s more than what can be said of many, as you pointed out.”

Éomer took a careful step in her direction.” I know I’m not a Southern knight, but…”

“They are not that good once you get to know them.” Sansa cut him. “I don’t need Southern knights. I need loyal Northerners, and that I don’t doubt your loyalty.”

Her words humbled him. “Once this is done, I’ll take a knee to the Starks once again. You’ll be my lady, Lady Sansa.”

Sansa’s chuckled lacked warmth. “A few years ago, those words would’ve made me the happiest girl in the North.”

“You used to find me charming.” He reminded her.

“And I used to think that princes were all good. Things change.”

Éomer didn’t want her to leave with a heavy heart. He would charm her, if only to make her smile. “Remember those words in case you start falling in love with me, My Lady.”

Sansa gasped in outrage, but then it turned into a smile and in a soft laughter.

Éomer would take this victory, since he didn’t know if he could hope for any other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come meet me at tumblr @madamebaggio where requests are open and the fun never ends ;)


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m saving Rickon today.  
> Well, Éomer is.

If there was one man that Jon would forever trust to have his back from that forward was Éomer. Not only because he’d fought like a demon beside Jon, but because he’d saved Rickon.

He knew Éomer was strong -there were stories about him out there -but he’d never seen something like that in his life.

When Jon had ridden to save Rickon, he’d known that Éomer was riding right beside him. However, the horses of the Mark were legendary creatures on their own. Firefoot raced ahead -much faster than any other horse Jon had ever seen.

Jon had been watching the arrows flying towards his brother and the desperation took him over. Then he saw something shocking. Éomer -while riding his horse -pulled on a spear and threw.

The spear flew across the field like a falcon and hit Ramsay’s horse, making the other man fall out of it.

Éomer picked Rickon by his shirt and threw him over Firefoot.

“That was incredible.” The boy said, breathless.

“I wasn’t aiming at the horse.” Éomer confessed.

And despite that, and the fact that Rickon was safe, it was quite clear they were doomed. They were all going to die.

Suddenly, the knights of the Vale were there and the tide turned. It was what they needed to push Ramsay back.

Jon was exhausted and so was Éomer. Sansa had left, but Rickon was still there, clutching to Jon’s cloak, afraid to move away.

Éowyn had just brought them ale when Sansa came back.

Jon stood up. “Sansa?”

“It’s done.” She told him easily.

Ramsay was dead, and Éomer wanted to ask how, but he did not dare. Not just then.

“Sansa?” Rickon looked from behind Jon’s cloak.

Sansa gave him a tremulous smile. “Hello, little wolf. Come here.” She opened her arms and Rickon ran straight to her.

Éomer sighed, letting his body sink deeper into his chair.

It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Yeah. I know Ramsay wasn’t on his horse when he was shooting the arrows, but I didn’t want Éomer to kill him -he was Sansa’s to kill -so I made him hit the horse -even if it was by accident. And Éomer did kill a dude on top of an oliphant, so he can do it!  
> Also, I’m not sure you throw a spear, but this is where my English failed me and I guessed… Sorry.


	8. 8

Taking Winterfell back hadn’t been easy, but keeping it would be even harder.

There were meetings, fingers pointed and much work to be done.

Jon was crowned King in the North and Éomer was happy to bend the knee to him.

Sansa was always around, taking care of everything and everyone.

It was almost impossible to talk to her properly, and Éomer needed to.

He wanted to know how she was, he wanted to ask her if he could give her anything.

He would. Whatever she asked of him would be hers. His life, his loyalty, his blood.

Éomer had many regrets, but since he found out about Ramsay, they had gotten even heavier on his shoulders.

“You’re an idiot.”

Éomer pretended he didn’t hear it, but -after years of friendship -he should’ve known better.

“She’s the lady of Winterfell.” Éothain pressed. “She is way too pretty and educated for the likes of you.”

Éomer pressed his lips together, refusing to answer, but his eyes followed Sansa around the courtyard. Sansa and that Baelish fucker.

“I mean, whatever childhood problem that she had that made her fancy you has clearly passed…”

Éomer whipped his head in Éothain’s direction and glared. “Shut up.”

“Oh, sorry. Did I upset you?” Éothain said dryly.

Éomer groaned. “What do you want me to say?” He demanded.

“I just want to understand why the fuck are you glaring at her from here, instead of doing something about it.” Éothain threw at him.

Éomer was quite shocked. Éothain just rolled his eyes. “You are an idiot.”

“I need…” Éomer took a deep breath in. “I don’t know what to say.”

“The truth would be nice. Ladies normally enjoy it.”

Éomer sighed. “Why should she believe me?”

“Rohirrim don’t lie.”

Éomer scoffed. “Aye, I remember that. Does she?”

“Make her remember, man.” Éothain was clearly beyond tired of Éomer’s self pity. “You lost her once because you wouldn’t admit to what you wanted. Are you going to do it again?”


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos!!

Jon had decided they needed to do something to raise morale, so Sansa organized a banquet with music and food.

And lots of ale.

The people of Winterfell were finally celebrating the hard won victory and enjoying some peace -as short as it might be.

Sansa was talking to the people around the hall, and so was Jon. Éomer was in a corner with his men, not really interested in talking with most of the lords left.

Éothain was entertaining most of them anyway, doing what Éomer technically should be doing, but had no heart to do just then.

Éomer brought his mug to his lips, but paused when he heard it. For a minute, he thought he was hallucinating. It was a crowded room, there were many people talking at the same time, and he had drunk quite a bit already.

But then he heard it again.

He turned immediately in the direction of the sound, and there she was.

Sansa was laughing.

Not just a small polite -contained -smile. Not the fake chuckle she occasionally offered some lords. This was real laughter; her hands were on her chest, her smile tremendously big and her face bright red.

Whatever Éothain had told her, it had made her smile.

He couldn’t be jealous, not of his best friend -who happened to be very happily married - but he felt robbed of the chance of doing it himself.

He wanted to make Sansa laugh. He wanted to make her happy, whatever it took.

He never longed for anything quite as much as he longed for her happiness.

***

The hour was getting late and Sansa was beyond tired of the noise, the people and the smile she had to keep on her face.

She was making a strategic retreat. Let the men finish drinking and celebrating, since this feast was supposedly to raise the morale of the fighters in Winterfell.

She’d just left the hall when she came across Éomer.

“Sansa!” He grinned at her.

Oh, someone was definitely drunk. “Why aren’t you with the others?” She asked.

“I was looking for you.”

“Why? Do you need something?”

Éomer just came up to her and captured her face between his hands. “You look way too pretty tonight.”

“Éomer…”

He kissed her, and it was messy and a disaster. She was too shocked to react and he was too drunk to do it well.

This would be uncomfortable the next morning, so she gently pushed him away. “That’s kind of you to say.” There was quite a bit of frost in her tone. “Go to sleep and tell me again in the morning.”

Éomer nodded gravely, as if she’d just issued a war command to him. “Yes, my lady.” Then turned on his heel and left.

Great.

All that she needed now.

A kiss.

From a man she once loved and never really forgotten.

She didn’t think she’d get much sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your feelings!
> 
> The next morning is going to be... Interesting... lol


End file.
